


Thirty

by titansatemysoul



Series: Wayward Son, We're By Your Side (Prompt Fill Collection) [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titansatemysoul/pseuds/titansatemysoul
Summary: Ignis and Noctis have spent countless New Years together. It's hard to believe they've made it to thirty - it feels like a miracle.For the FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange!





	Thirty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/gifts).



**The 1 st Year**

“Why is it loud?” Noctis is looking towards the tall windows of his bedroom, round, bright blue eyes wide in wonderment. Insomnia is abuzz with end of year excitement, the Citadel lending its plaza to the people. Floors below, thousands line the streets, drinking and celebrating the last day of the year. For the Prince and his companion however, it’s bedtime. Regis closes the curtains before scooping up his son and carrying him back to bed. Ignis is already tucked in, little glasses folded carefully and safely in the brightly colored case they came in.

“It’s New Years, Noct,” he explains, covering him with his half of the blanket. “There’s a big party outside.”

“That’s right,” Regis picks up one of Noct’s stuffed animals, a moogle plush, tucking it in beside him offering one to Ignis.

“I don’t need one anymore,” Ignis flashes the King a toothy smile with his chin held high. In truth, he does still occasionally curl up with his favorite coeurl plush that his mother gave him, but for some reason, he never needs it when he’s with Noct.

Regis chuckles, pulling the blanket up to Noct’s chin, sweeping his silky black hair off his forehead.

“One day we’ll all go together,” he promises the Prince. “But for now, you both will sleep.”

**The 5 th Year**

Noct’s governess shuts his bedroom door at exactly 9pm. At 9:01, he’s up and out of bed, locking it behind her.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Ignis hisses, turning on the bedside lamp and putting his glasses back on. “We’re not supposed to lock doors.”

“We won’t get in trouble if she doesn’t hear us,” Noctis shushes him, grabbing his handheld off the dresser and climbing back into bed.

“This year, we’re definitely going to make it until midnight.” He sounds determined, though the yawn he stifles doesn’t bode well for his aspirations. Ignis smiles, scooting over and making a nest out of Noct’s blanket. They huddle together, loading up a brand-new game, _King’s Knight_.

“Stop yawning then,” Ignis chides. They take turn playing rounds, one ear always towards the door, wary of footsteps of anyone who might intrude. By 10:45, Noctis is drooping, eyes fluttering and leaning heavier into Ignis’ side.

“Let’s sleep.” The Prince shakes his head, casting out the temptation of a soft pillow and the warmth of Ignis’ body. He stretches, taking back his game, intent on leveling at least once this round. Ignis has his chin on his shoulder, watching intently. The button queues are coming quickly and from multiple sides, and it takes all of Noct’s concentration. It isn’t until he feels a weight in his side that he looks over to see that Ignis has slumped over. He’s asleep, lashes resting on his pale cheeks, mouth slightly parted taking slow, deep breaths.

“I win,” Noctis grins triumphantly, but he doesn’t have the heart to wake him. He closes his eyes for a moment, giving them a rest before he plays again.

This year, the boys miss the New Year by only fifteen minutes, fast asleep by 11:45pm.

**The 14 th Year**

“Do you think it’s okay that I stayed home?”

Though he once coveted such occasions during his childhood, public appearance and charade have dropped drastically on the list of what Noctis considers _fun._ Fortunately, a top spot in his class rankings as well as Ignis pointing out he would need extra time to catch up on his official duties convinced Regis that the Prince be allowed exemption from the usual New Years pomp.

Instead, their night consisted of greasy takeaway that Ignis picked up on his way over, bad TV and video games. Noctis tips himself over, stretching onto the length of the couch. His fingers drag on the carpeting, letting the food settle in his gut while Ignis repacks and puts its away.                                           

“Well, you have your studies. People will understand that.”

Noct would much rather be right where he is. Regis will be at the Citadel tomorrow for breakfast and a round of official photographs. Ignis had taken his own time the week before. Soft footsteps approach and Ignis gestures for him to scoot, settling down and then offering his thigh as a pillow. Noctis smiles when long, thin fingers begin to play with the mop of his hair. He’s only recently learned that Ignis is prone for that kind of casual, absentminded affection. It’s only been a month or so since that such things have been reserved exclusively for Noct, but already he can’t remember what it was like without.

They pass the time with a movie, and at ten to Noct decides that they should turn on the last of the countdown. Regis is there, projected onto large screens put up in the plaza. There are a few other council members, talking to reporters and holding champagne.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” Ignis looks down his nose at Noct, his glasses magnifying the green of his eyes.

“To finish school and never go back.” They laugh together as Noct sits up to face him. “No uhm…” he trails off, glancing at the TV, which has focused on the King, smiling and waving with his free hand at the camera with just two minutes to go. With the other, he leans on his cane, the newest and most telling accessory to the state of his health.

“To be better.”

When the clock strikes midnight, they can hear the fireworks just beyond the apartment balcony and on television, bright colors and banners flashing on the screen. Noctis plucks Ignis’ glasses off his nose, holding them carefully between his thumb and forefinger while he gives him their first ever New Year’s kiss.

**The 17th th Year**

Lestallum is unseasonably chilly on this New Years Eve. There’s a light breeze on the balcony where Noctis is perched, and the citizens below him are all wearing an extra layer over their usual tees and tanks.

“Gladio and Prompto are going down.” Noctis turns to see Ignis in the doorway, with a can of Ebony and a leftover pastry from lunch. He joins Noct, holding the sweet up to his mouth for him to take a bite. “Are we joining them?”

“Soon,” Noctis says, wiping crumbs off his lips. “I want skewers.”

“Noctis you _just_ ate,” Ignis replies, exasperated. “But it’s not a bad idea.”

They’d come to Lestallum for a hunt, but short on food and supplies had decided to stay through the holiday. Noct did his best to make it worth their while, taking any off job he could find within the city and the surrounding area. With all they’d collected, the shouldn’t have to stop again before they move on to Altissia. Noctis hasn’t decided if this is a good thing or bad.

“Perhaps a beer, as well.” Ignis points to one of the vendors, passing out bottles from an oversized cooler.

“I like this better than the celebrations back home. But now that everything is gone…”

“Once we fix things, we’ll have new ones,” Ignis assures him. “They’ll be even better.”

“Right.”

Despite the recent intrusion of imperial troops and the looming banners left behind, the people of Lestallum seem determined not to let it ruin their good time. Perhaps one day Noctis can bring them to Insomnia and let them help to revive the broken spirit of the city.

“Shall we, then?”

“One second.”

Noct grabs Ignis by the wrist, pulling him in. His lips are sweet and buttery, tangy filling still on his tongue.

“Happy New Year, Iggy.”

**The 30 th Year **

This year, everyone will celebrate a new year filled with light. Everyone, except Ignis.

Supposedly, the small block of streets cleared since the end of the scourge are lit up for the evening. Many have told him it’s beautiful, and Ignis has no choice but to take their word for it. The Citadel plaza lends itself to a small celebration, glaives and refugees doing their best to bring the city back to life. The main building is forbidden, half collapsed and low on the list of restoration projects. Still, Ignis has wandered beyond the barriers.

The gaping hole in the ceiling causes a distinct draft as Ignis enters the throne room. It’s quiet, music and people barely audible this high up. His footsteps echo as he ventures further inside. He moves slowly, still not used to the sensation of blindness. With one stairwell blocked, he takes the other up to the large stone seat. The flowers begin a few steps before, in varying stages of decay all piled together. The freshest are on top, laid there himself just a few days before. Removing his gloves, Ignis carefully disentangles one from the bouquet as he sits cross-legged on the floor before the throne.

“Happy New Year,” Ignis says to himself when his watch begins to beep. He turns it off, placing the flower on the arm of the throne. The others will come looking for him soon and insist that he join them. They’re well intentioned of course, but Ignis isn’t in the mood to try and _move on_.

“This damned thing,” he mutters when the alarm sounds again. He’ll be grateful when phones work within the city limits. Not paying attention, Ignis doesn’t realize he’s missed a step until it’s too late, tumbling down, that incessant alarm still ringing in his ear.

-

Ignis wakes with a jolt, feeling around for his glasses and ringing cell phone. It’s an officer, confirming a transfer of food supplies from Lestallum. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ignis ends the conversation quickly, tossing his phone somewhere in the sea of blankets on the bed. The sun casts a pleasant warmth on his shoulders, curtains drawn wide open, reflecting off the surfaces of polished wood and glass of the bedroom furniture. Stretching out, he forces himself out of bed, still wound up in a sense of unrest. His robe is thrown over his vanity chair, smooth silk covering his otherwise naked body.

Someone has already brought breakfast, covered toast and eggs still warm with half a pitcher of orange juice and a pot of coffee. Ignis is just sitting down when Noctis appears, freshly showered with a towel draped over a dripping wet mop of thick black hair.

“You slept late.”

“You should have woken me,” Ignis pokes his fork in the King’s direction. Noctis joins him at the table, sipping juice and keeping him company.

“You’re quiet,” he says after a while.

“I had a bad dream.”

Ignis didn’t wait long to share the visions he was bestowed with in Altissia with Noctis. Though they never came to pass, the grief and sense of loss that came with the _‘what if’_ , lingered. They’ve kept Ignis awake many nights over the last few years.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Noctis reaches across the table, threading Ignis’ free hand in his.

“Not really,” Ignis smiles, setting down his coffee. “You’re here. That’s more than enough.”

Insomnia is mostly empty. The base established underground is still primarily used for official glaive or hunter business. People commute from outer Lucis daily, helping to clear away the rubble and slowly restore what can be saved of the city. Though the capital is still many years away from returning to it’s former glory, every month sees a few families returning to their homes and attempting to pick up where they left off.

The day sees an influx of refugees visiting the city, coming in trucks and cars and even a few by chocobo. They bring with them food rations, saved for weeks in advance, homemade liquor, lights and all the makings of a celebration. Once merely the central piece of the city-wide party, the entirety can now fit in the Citadel plaza. It’s a stark contrast from the once lavish celebrations. Street food from Lestallum, as well as international delicacies from Accordo and Niflheim fill the air with tantalizing scents and smoke. Noctis greets everyone as they arrive, out of uniform, in plain black on black. Today, he’s just another citizen. The turnout is larger than they expected and by the time midnight draws near, the plaza is packed tight.

“Definitely better than before,” Noctis says as the people around them begin to count.

“Yes,” Ignis says. “Much better.”

The King and his consort share their first kiss of the year; married, peaceful and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed your gift! Happy holidays, and here's to many more years of ignoct~


End file.
